Authors: Percival Constantine
Tags: #fantasy, #science fiction, #sci-fi, #epic fantasy, #steampunk
Finally, he saw a staircase ascending just ahead. He bounded up the steps two or three at a time, moving around the spiral column. Reyche barely gave pause as she jumped over the steps herself. As the summit grew closer, a door impeded Templar’s progress. He raised his cane and hit the button to activate the pulse sword. The unique metal that made up the cane’s shaft lit up with a hum of blue energy. He swung the weapon and cut right through the door. Another corridor with another door at the end. Templar cut through that one as well.
He was in the cathedral, just beside the altar. Random worshippers sat scattered in the pews. They all stared at him in surprise and Templar just managed a weak smile. “A thousand pardons, sorry to disturb you.”
Templar heard her coming from behind, but had no time to clear the path. He could only spin in time to deactivate the pulse sword just as Reyche soared through the air and landed on him. Templar held both ends of the cane in his hands, using it to keep Reyche’s fanged strikes at bay. She snarled at him, trying to get a bite of his flesh, but he struggled with all his strength to fend off those teeth. The parishioners fled the cathedral in horror, screaming as they ran. Reyche paid them no mind, it seemed she was only interested in her current prey.
“I want to make it clear that while I am quite flattered, I don’t believe in any neck action on a first date,” said Templar, pushing back with all his strength to flip their positions. Reyche was now on her back with Templar pinning her down. He forced the cane down, striking her head and then stood over the stunned vampire.
His time was running short. She would quickly recover from the blow he had dealt her, and Templar didn’t know how he would be able to fend her off much longer. It didn’t seem like she would stop until one of them was dead. As much as he hated the thought of killing her, if that was the only option, he would do everything in his power to be the one to walk away.
“Right, I suppose it’s come to this.” Templar raised the weapon and activated the switch. The pulse sword flared to life and Reyche almost seemed mesmerized by the glowing blade. He advanced, delivering a downward slash from left to right. The energy blade cut across Reyche’s stomach, burning her clothes and flesh. She shrieked and recoiled. Templar backed up a bit as well, sliding into a fencing stance.
“It may not be my desire to cause you harm, but don’t think I’m unwilling to do just that,” he said. “Now listen to me, Reyche: you are not yourself. You are being used as a pawn.”
Reyche didn’t seem to respond to his words. She bared her fangs at him, her eyes still retaining that same blank stare. Her pupils took a brief glance away from him and she saw something that caused a flicker of recognition in her face. Templar took notice and followed her line of sight to the image of Illuminist star above the altar. He also noticed she wore that same symbol as a pendant on her necklace. That would explain why she had come here.
“Who are you really, Reyche?” he asked. “Before you came here, who were you?”
Reyche snapped back to attention and growled. Templar raised his arms up. “You are not from Serenity, are you?”
Reyche shook her head. The sorcery that clouded her mind and controlled her actions began to dispel. There were flashes in her mind of something else...
“Reyche!”
The young woman looked up from the leather-bound book resting in her lap. She smiled at her mother’s approach from the house to the garden and stood, laying the book on the table beside her.
“Is he ready?” asked Reyche.
Her mother nodded. “You mean if that old jalopy of your father’s is finally working, then yes, so you’d best get moving before it breaks down again.”
“Perfect!” said Reyche and she practically jumped as she picked up the book, shutting it and clasping it to her breast. Her mother gently laid a hand on her arm.
“Are you certain about this pilgrimage? There are many dangers outside Tarzu.”
Reyche rolled her eyes. “How many times are we going to have this discussion?”
“I just want you to be careful, that’s all. You’ve never left the village and now you’re going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.”
“I’ll be fine.” She patted the book. “The Presence will watch out for me.”
“I’ll pray for the angels to watch over you, but I still want you to be careful. It’s a dangerous journey you’re going on.”
Reyche smiled and went up to her mother, planting a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. “Stop worrying so much, Mama. Spiritual journeys aren’t supposed to be a walk in the park. If they were, what’d be the point?”
Her mother feigned a half-smile. “I suppose. Come on, let’s go see if your father’s ready to go.”
The pair walked around the back of the small two-bedroom house to the front yard. A man in his fifties picked up a sack and loaded it into the back compartment of a two-door rusted vehicle. He was a farmer by trade, pretty much the only kind of work in the village of Tarzu. A lifetime of labor added an appearance of ten years to his stocky frame, but his bushy, handlebar mustache maintained its black color.
“We ready?” he asked, upon seeing his wife and daughter. “It’s about a twenty minute ride to the station and the train leaves in an hour, so we’d best hustle.”
“Depends, is that rust-bucket in working order now?” asked his wife.
“It’ll make the trip, s’long as the damned radiator don’t spring another leak.”
“No blaspheming in the house.”
“Ain’t in the house.”
“You know what I mean,” she said as she gave a wave of dismissal to her husband and faced her daughter. She placed her hands on Reyche’s shoulders and looked her up and down. Sofi wrapped her arms around Reyche’s slim body, holding her tightly. “I can’t believe you’re really going off.”
Reyche gently returned the hug and patted Sofi on the back. “It’ll be okay, Mama. I’ll only be gone a year. Then I’ll come right back, promise.”
“You’d best, or we’ll have words.”
Her father leaned against the old jalopy and checked his pocket watch. He removed his pipe from the front pocket of his jacket and gnawed on the tip a little. “Time’s a’wastin’, ladies. You ready, sweetheart?”
Reyche pulled away from her mother and nodded. “Yeah Poppa, I’m ready.”
“No!”
Reyche clamped her eyes shut, hands gripping her head as she shook it violently, trying to get some clarity in her mind. Templar watched this all happen, trying to plan out his next move. He had to tread carefully, watch his words. The wrong one could snap her right back into a trance. But she seemed to be fighting off the influence.
“You’ve begun to remember, have you not?” he asked. “Stay with it, girl. Do not let it go just yet. You must fight whatever Vortai has done to you.”
She fell to her knees, still gripping her head. “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my mind!”
“Whatever it is you’ve discovered, do not let go of it. Keep fighting, get him out.”
Templar approached her, deactivating the pulse sword. He held his hand out, but still remained on guard in case Vortai’s influence reasserted itself. Reyche breathing heavily. She allowed herself to relax and her arms fell to her sides. Her eyes were open, but she just stared at the ground for a few moments, unsure of what to do next.
“Reyche, can you hear me?” asked Templar.
She swallowed hard and managed to weakly raise her head. Her eyes were her own once more, but they were slightly moist from newly-formed tears. It seemed as if she were about to stumble, so Templar held out his arm. Reyche accepted his gentlemanly offer and took his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.
“Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “I-I’m not sure...the last thing I remember was speaking to you and then...I’m here. What just happened?”
“That is indeed quite a story, but first, I’d suggest we abscond from this place,” said Templar. “Our little spat has hardly gone unnoticed. Won’t be long before the local authorities arrive on the scene. Or worse, Vortai himself.”
Reyche nodded. “You’re right, we should go.”
They left the main hall and entered the atrium, the overhead sun beating down on them through the glass dome. Reyche started to move towards the front doors, but Templar pulled her away. She looked behind him and he shook his head. “Not through the front.
Never
through the front.”
They moved towards the side, ascending the staircase that led to the balcony for the choir. Templar darted across the balcony with Reyche following and at the other end was another door. Inside was a storage area for instruments, with dusty covers hiding pianos, organs, harps, and other lutes. Sunlight filtered in through a small window, the dust mites hovering in its glow. Templar went to the window and was able to pry it open. He climbed through the opening and ended up on the slanted roof. He peered through the window at the vampire still inside.
“Come along, we’re almost clear.”
Reyche hesitated slightly because of the light. She pulled her hood over her head, making sure it kept her face encased in shadows. Carefully, she climbed out, taking Templar’s hand for assistance. Once she had solid footing, Templar took the lead, moving towards the apex of the roof. He looked out at the steeple and how far it towered over the street below. Templar reached for his belt and drew a small grapple gun.
“I do hope you lack a fear of heights.”
“Not really...” said Reyche, trying not to look down.
“Well, if it’s some small consolation, I believe it would take more than a tumble to harm someone of your...constitution.”
“That’s not as helpful as you might think.”
Templar smirked and raised the grapple gun. He fired and the piton flew through the air, wrapping the attached cable around the steeple. Templar tested the cable’s strength and nodded appreciatively. He held out his arm to Reyche. She was hesitant, but stepped closer. Templar wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and her pale cheeks reddened slightly.
“Hold on, and please do not scream.”
He jumped from the roof, swinging on the cable, keeping a firm grip on his companion. Reyche clamped her teeth together, trying to keep herself from screaming. They swung low and they began to drop lower. Templar increased the length of the cable until they were close enough to the ground. He glanced down at Reyche.
“I’m going to drop you now, okay?”
She nodded and Templar released her. She fell a few feet but landed harmlessly. Templar followed her and retracted the cable into the grapple gun. He peered around the edge of the cathedral and saw there were some officers standing out front, but they appeared oblivious to the strange reports they’d received from the parishioners. No doubt, once they questioned Vortai, he would convince them nothing was out of the ordinary. For now, at least, they would be safe.
“Come, we need to get to a secure location,” said Templar.
The woods surrounding Nephelm had been nicknamed the Forest of Eternal Night, and it was easy to see why. Nephelm existed almost in a realm all its own, and though it had been mid-day when they arrived, once they entered the forest, dusk fell quickly. Zarim took point, his hood pulled over his head as he moved carefully past the trees. His hand lay atop the hilt of his blade, prepared at a moment’s notice to draw his weapon.
There was no telling what would be found in this place, as very few ever returned from the journey. Stories existed of children becoming lost in the woods and then getting snatched up by the faeries, becoming one of them. Zarim had no way of knowing if there were any truth to these legends. Swul never offered up any information about his past or his brethren and none on the Excalibur had ever asked.
Zarim’s training in Xanadar provided him with a form of mystic sense. It was what enabled him to perceive the Soulstones when he was near them and gave him a better understanding of his surroundings through the sensing of energy fields. But in the Forest of Eternal Night, he felt blind, deaf, and anosmic. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ekala and further behind, Tanus. They all kept some distance from each other to try and decrease the chances of an ambush.
A twig snapped. Zarim’s sword was drawn in the instant it took for him to pivot towards the sound. He could hear something else, like a low sobbing. He stepped carefully, inching past, tree by tree. Ekala and Tanus noticed his change in course and readied their own weapons, but still kept their distance. Zarim raised his blade and prepared to bring it down...
“Please, don’t hurt me!”
He halted, his sword still held above his head. Zarim’s gaze softened at the young boy who looked up at him with glassy eyes. He lowered his sword and knelt down beside the child, carefully reaching out his free hand. The boy retracted, curling into a ball. Zarim smiled, reached his hand up and pulled his hood down so as not to frighten the child.
“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said.
Tanus moved behind Ekala, leaning in towards her. “What’s he doing?”
“Dunno.” She moved closer to Zarim. “Zee, we’ve got to keep moving.”
Zarim ignored her, staring into the boy’s eyes. “Are you alone?”
The boy nodded.
“How did you get here?”
“Zee!” Her voice was still hushed, but the intensity was stronger. Yet as far as Zarim seemed to be concerned, no one besides the boy even existed.
“I don’t like this,” said Tanus, keeping his gun-arm at the ready.
“That makes two of us,” said Ekala. “Zee, c’mon!”
“Where are your parents?” asked Zarim. “Do you live around here?”
“Y-yes, I live nearby,” said the boy.
“Okay, why don’t you come with us? We’ll take you where you need to go.”
Zarim stood, about to slide his sword into the scabbard, when he heard a snarl behind him. He instantly fell back into a fighting stance, bringing his sword to bear. He pushed the boy behind him with his free hand, guarding him from the creature that he faced off against.